


quiet, the storm has passed

by marchare



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of trauma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Kink Negotiation, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, NEVER gonna happen, Nightmares, No Sex, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Platonic bed sharing, Relationship Negotiation, Sherlock has some serious subby tendencies, attentive Sherlock, canon compliant to S3ep14, follow up to S3ep14 (The Female of the Species), mention of past canon drug use, minimal discussion of terms but clear consent and a positive experience for both parties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-02-19
Packaged: 2018-03-13 18:23:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3391610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marchare/pseuds/marchare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Follows Season 3 ep. 14 (The Female of the Species)<br/>This is how I imagined the rest of the evening might go.</p><p>Watching this episode all I could think was "Seriously, Sherlock, just go ahead and sit at her feet already. I promise she will not be surprised."</p><p>Joan decides to spend the night and test a theory she has about Sherlock. They might not have a "normal" relationship but it works for them. Comfort for both characters ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	quiet, the storm has passed

**Author's Note:**

> In my headcanon for this scenario Joan and Sherlock will never have a sexual relationship, but if that's your thing please feel free to imagine that they renegotiate things at a later date.
> 
> Warning: Joan initiates a mild D/s scene with Sherlock without them having discussed it; however, it is based off of their previous interactions and her knowledge of him and he is under no coercion to comply. When he does, she confirms that this is something he wants and asks about his needs. (possibly spoilery*** I do not have her expressly ask about blindfolds because in my mind she was walked in on him doing random shit blindfolded multiple times because "it helps focus the other senses, Watson"***)
> 
> This is my second story ever and first in this fandom, so gentle feedback is appreciated. I'm still working on their voices in my head, so apologies if anything sounds OOC. 
> 
> Nothing explicit happens so I rated it 'Gen', but as always, if anyone wants me to up the rating just let me know.

Joan decided to stay at the brownstone that night. She needed what comfort she could get and she'd realized that this was the best place to find it. Plus, she thought Sherlock needed to not be alone. Moriarty’s letter had had the expected effect on him and he was practically vibrating; even the news that she would be moving back in hadn’t calmed him down. Joan had faith, she knew he wouldn’t relapse over this, not without asking for help first, but there were myriad other ways he could be self-destructive, or really just destructive in _general_. She didn’t want to move back in only to discover that he had set the couch on fire overnight. But when she told him he had just rocked for a moment and said, “Of course, you are always welcome here. I haven’t touched your room; you’ll find everything as you left it,” and then gone to his wall of locks and started rearranging them _again_. Joan thought perhaps if she sat and read it would help to steady him but after 45 minutes of him rattling and pacing and fidgeting she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Sherlock, must you do that?”

“Obviously I must Watson, if I didn’t I wouldn’t be doing it would I? The order of these is all wrong, don’t know what I was thinking really, grouping by brand is far too simple. I think it would be much more useful to organize them by serial number, then I can look for underlying patterns that might be occurring based on how people instinctually view number order.”

“Of course.” She sighed. If this was going to be a permanent solution it was time to confirm something she had long suspected.

“Sherlock, do you trust me?”

“Of course I do Watson. You should know by now that I trust you more than anyone else.”

“Okay,” she set her book down on the couch, “then stop talking and come sit down.”

“I really can’t Watson; I told you these locks are all wrong and…”

“I’m not asking you to Sherlock. I’m _telling_ you. _Stop talking and sit down_ ,” she pointed at the floor next to her feet. Her suspicions were confirmed by his sharp intake of breath and the way his shoulders immediately relaxed. He looked at her with something like awe as he walked over and gracefully dropped to the floor. She put her hand in his hair and shifted him so he was leaning against her leg and she could feel the tension draining out of him.

“You are thinking too loudly and I need you to calm down. We will worry about Moriarty tomorrow; right now I want you to put her out of your head.” As she felt him stiffen she tightened her grip on his hair until he relaxed again.

“That’s better. You don’t need to worry about anything right now, I’ll tell you what to do. Okay?”

“You may answer.”

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to be in control tonight?”

“Please,” he whispered.

“Is there anything you need?”

“Can I stay here? By you?”

“Of course,” she replied. “Anything else?”

When he was silent she gave his hair a sharp tug. “I asked you a question. I require an answer.”

“My hands, can you, would you tie my hands please?”

Joan thought for a moment. She wasn’t sure how to do this safely with rope but she remembered he had a collection of silk scarves he used in various lessons. Those would work and gave her another idea.

“Okay. I’m going to get something. You are going to take your shoes off and kneel right here until I get back. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, _Joan_.”

He shivered against her. “Yes Joan.”

“Good. Now stay, and not a sound until I get back.”

Joan got up and went to the closet where she thought she remembered the box being- sure enough, there it was, a whole selection of scarves in various colors and lengths. She picked two long, dark ones and went back to the living room, kicking off her shoes in the hallway. When she walked back over Sherlock was kneeling with his back to the couch, hands on his thighs, looking down. She walked over and crouched in front of him.

“Hands together.”

He held them out, fingers interlocked. Joan wove a loose figure eight around them several times, not enough to actually hold him but enough to give the sensation of being restrained.

“Sit back on your heels and look at me.”

When he met her eyes she lifted the second scarf and wrapped it around his head three times, tying it in the back, blindfolding him.

“Can you see anything?”

“No Joan.”

“Good. You are not to take either of those off without permission. I am going back to reading my book. Do you know how to play Bach’s Chaconne?”

“Yes Joan.”

“Alright. Then until I decide I’m ready to go to bed you will sit here and practice it in your head. I've given you enough slack to practice the fingering as well. That is all you are permitted to think about. If I find you disobeying me I will be very disappointed and you do not want to disappoint me. You will not speak unless I give you permission or you need to stop. If you do, you will say ‘apiary’. Is this all clear?”

“Yes Joan.”

“What’s your word?”

“Apiary.”

“Good. Silence now.”

Joan settled back on the couch next to where he was sitting, tucking one foot up under her and pressing her other leg against his side. As soon as she made contact his hands, which had been clenched into fists, relaxed. She watched as he tried to focus but it was clear he was still distracted. She slid her hand back into his hair and tugged, hard.

“Stop thinking. _Now_.”

And that seemed to do the trick. He melted under her hand and she watched as his fingers started to play through imaginary chords. She picked up her book and went back to reading, permitting herself the occasional caress of his hair. After an hour passed she took a moment to observe him but he seemed to be fully absorbed by the task she had set. The tension had drained out of his body and he was swaying slightly, in time with the music he was playing. Joan figured his legs were asleep by now but she remembered long study sessions in med school when she'd been so focused she hadn’t moved for hours. It was nearly ten pm- she thought she could push him to go to sleep at a reasonable hour if she could keep him occupied for a bit longer.

At 10:45 Joan marked her place and set her book aside. Sherlock was still playing. She ran her fingers through his hair a couple of times before giving it a gentle tug.

“Sherlock.”

His hands stilled.

“Do you feel better? You may speak now.”

“Yes Joan.”

“Good. Are you ready for me to untie you now?”

“You, umm, you don’t have to. I can stay like this all night if you want me to.”

“No. I don’t want to leave you here by yourself. I’m ready for bed. Do you think you’ll be able to sleep?”

“Maybe?”

“What if I got you some blankets and a pillow and put you on the floor next to my bed? Would you be able to sleep there?”

He was leaning into her hand as it carded through his hair.

“You would let me do that?” and he sounded so hopeful that Joan had to smile. ‘Oh, Sherlock” she thought, ‘how long have you been thinking about this?’

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wouldn’t. Alright then, here’s what’s going to happen- I’m going to untie you and we're both going to get ready for bed. You will find whatever is it that you need to sleep on the floor and come to my room. Once you’re settled we’re both going to try and get a decent night’s sleep. Does that sound okay? Is there anything you need that I’ve missed?”

“Would you re-tie my hands?”

“I’m willing to tie them loosely but if it becomes uncomfortable you need to wake me and tell me, understood? This is non-negotiable.”

“Yes Joan.”

“Good.”

Joan got up and crouched in front of Sherlock again. She put her hand on his cheek before untying the blindfold. When it was off he blinked at her and she had never seen him like this. He was so calm and _pliable_. She wondered if Moriarty had gotten to see this side of him; if she had, well, there was a special place in hell for anyone who betrayed this level of trust. Sherlock had always been attentive but this was more; he was looking at her like she was the center of his world. She wondered if this was the feeling he had been chasing when he was using.

“Hi,” she smiled at him, touching his cheek again. “You were very good. I’m so proud of you, Sherlock.”

His answering smile was brilliant.

She untied his hands and stuffed the scarves in her pocket.

“I’m sure your legs are asleep so I’m going to help you up.”

Joan made sure she had a firm grip on his elbow before indicating that he should rise. He wobbled for a moment but seemed content to stand there quietly until he regained his balance. Once she was sure he was steady she nudged him in the direction of his room.

Joan headed up to her own room and got ready for bed. By the time she had changed and brushed her teeth Sherlock was standing outside her bedroom door looking unsure. She hid a smile when she noticed that in addition to a faded t-shirt and cotton pants, he apparently slept in mismatched socks.

“Come on in. Get yourself settled.”

He dropped his armful of bedding (between her and the door she noted) and laid out a thin bedroll, pillow, and a couple of light blankets. Joan waited until he was sitting to grab one of the scarves she’d left on the bed.

“Still want your hands tied?”

“Yes please,” he replied holding them out.

She wrapped them in a loose figure eight again.

“Ok. I’m trusting you to leave this on until morning. If you wake up and it’s after 6 am you can take it off and go make breakfast. If it’s before 6, please try to go back to sleep. If you wake up and decide you don’t need it anymore you can go ahead and take it off but please stay here until 6. If it’s uncomfortable you need to wake me. Are you good with all of that?”

“Yes Joan. Thank you.”

“Goodnight Sherlock.”

“Goodnight.”

Joan turned out the light and climbed into bed, rolling over so she could let her arm hang down and just brush his shoulder. She might be doing this for him, but it was awfully nice to know she wasn’t alone tonight.

Sherlock managed to sleep until nearly 3 am when he woke to the sound of Joan begging.

“Please, please don’t do this, please don’t leave me…”

He sat up and shook off the scarf, calling softly, “Watson, Watson you’re dreaming. Watson, you need to wake up.”

She did with a gasp. Sitting up, she was shaking as she reached out and asked him “you’re okay?”

He got up and sat on the bed next to her, lifting his arm so she could curl against him. “I’m fine. I’m fine and I’m right here. We’re both safe and in the brownstone. It’s 3 in the morning.”

He hesitated before asking, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I dreamt that Elana shot you and I just _couldn’t_ , I _kept_ _trying_ , but there was _so much blood_ and I _couldn’t save you_.”

Sherlock rubbed her shoulder where his arm was around her.

“Well, clearly I haven’t been shot and Elana is dead so that’s one worry you can cross off your list. I promise you, Watson, I won’t leave you. Not again.”

“I know. I’m sorry I woke you- it was just a bad dream. Go back to sleep, I’ll be fine.”

“Watson, I have no intention of letting you lie here and worry while I pretend to sleep on the floor.”

“Really, Sherlock, I’m fine. Tonight was about taking care of you, you don’t need to worry about this.”

“Watson, you are being uncharacteristically foolish. You were wonderful earlier and gave me exactly what _I_ needed; now kindly let me return the favor. That is the entire point of a partnership, is it not? To have someone there when you need them?”

She relaxed against him and he heard the smile in her voice when she replied.

“That is a major selling point, yes.”

“Well then, allow me to assist you now. Do you think you'll be able to sleep, or should I go put on the kettle?”

“Ugh, it’s 3 am?”

“Yes.”

“Then I would really like to try for more sleep. If that fails, tea.”

“Very well then,” he started to move away but Joan stopped him with a hand on his chest.

“Unless you would prefer that I stay?”

“Just next to me? So I know that you’re still here. Is that too weird?”

“My dearest Watson, weird is a label that has no place in _our_ relationship. We simply do whatever works best for us and if tonight that is me sleeping next to you then that is what we’ll do.”

“Thanks.”

Joan moved over to make room for him to climb under the covers. He laid down flat on his back, with a full foot of space between them. She smiled into her pillow and rolled over onto her stomach so she could reach a hand out to touch his shoulder; he reached up so his fingers brushed hers.

“Goodnight Watson.”

“Goodnight Sherlock.”

* * *

 

Joan woke up to sun streaming through the window and Sherlock walking in with a tray.

“Watson! Excellent, you’re awake. I’ve made breakfast.”

He waited for her to sit up before setting the tray down. Once he did, he fell into the chair in the corner, giving every indication that he intended to sit there and watch her eat. ‘Oh well,’ she figured, ‘wouldn’t be the first time.’ And it looked like he'd put a great deal of care into what he made- scones, a slice of what appeared to be a spinach frittata, fresh fruit, and coffee.

“So,” she started, “are we going to talk about what happened last night-“

He waived a hand imperiously. “I don’t know that there’s anything to say beyond us being partners who helped each other deal with a trying situation. I assure you, I won’t presume to expect anything of that nature from you in the future and I most certainly do not think this changes our relationship in the least. You and I have a true _partnership_ , Watson, and I would never sully that with anything of a sexual nature. _Sex_ I can get elsewhere, as I am certain you can.”

She rolled her eyes as she smiled and tried the eggs. “That’s not what I meant, although yes, I can, and no, there will be no sex between us. That wasn’t sexual for me at all though, was it for you?”

“No.”

“Well then, if it wasn’t sexual and it made us both feel better, is there a reason we should rule it out in the future? It helped to have you next to me after that nightmare and you seemed a helluva lot calmer after what I did.”

“I was indeed.”

“Then I propose the following: if you need me to calm you down like that in the future, you simply need to ask and I will; if you need to sleep on my floor, just let me know. And if I need someone to sleep next to, I’ll ask you. Deal?”

Sherlock was starting to vibrate but Joan could read him by now and this was the excited version. This was the way he got when he had a new puzzle and his eyes were shining.

“I would like nothing better.”

“Good, it’s settled. Now please find me something to wear to the station.”

Joan hid her grin behind her mug as she finished her breakfast to the sound of Sherlock humming Bach and rummaging through her closet.

 

 


End file.
